


Moonshine Lullaby

by Perpetual Motion (perpetfic)



Category: Tombstone (1993)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-01
Updated: 2011-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-28 02:10:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/302586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perpetfic/pseuds/Perpetual%20Motion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doc and Wyatt, alone one night and discussing the nebulous "after."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moonshine Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [screamlet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamlet/gifts).



> I hope you like it. I apologize if there's a stack of typos I missed. There were technical difficlties, and I ended up editing on my phone. I promise to fix anything I missed as soon as I can.

"You care for her," Doc says when Wyatt lets himself into his room. He is laying on the bed, propped up on pillows that look thicker and more comfortable than Wyatt's ever had in his life.

"Whatever are you talking about?" Wyatt asks, but he thinks he might already know the answer.

"The actress," Doc says. "As though you are unaware."

Wyatt looks at Doc from across the room. "Are you jealous?" he asks.

"I am jealous of no man," Doc replies, but Wyatt thinks he's lying.

"None at all?" he asks. "Not even those who can ignore your interest?"

"I do not believe you can make such a claim," Doc replies. He stretches, from toes to neck, and Wyatt can't pretend not to notice.

"I like her plenty," he admits as he crawls into bed next to Doc, "but I have Mattie."

"A delicate prairie flower if one ever existed," Doc drawls. He arches when Wyatt slips a hand under his shirt. "Or she was."

"Don't be cruel," Wyatt orders him. "She is still my wife."

"I can see how much that means to you."

Wyatt considers getting out of bed for that comment, but then Doc breathes in deep, and Wyatt can hear the rattle in it. He tightens his grip on Doc and pulls him closer, pressing his face into Doc's neck. "You're a bitter piece of milkweed," he says.

"Milkweed is a hardy plant. I thank you for the compliment."

Wyatt laughs softly and listens to Doc breathe again. The rattle's still there. It wasn't as noticeable a few months ago. "You're getting worse," he murmurs.

"As are you," Doc replies. "More sentimental by the day."

"I am not."

Doc doesn't laugh, exactly, but there's a huff of air and an upward turn of his lips. "You won't marry that poor woman properly because of your sentiment for me."

"You were here first. That's just politeness."

Doc shakes his head but says nothing. They lie in silence until Wyatt moves and kisses Doc on the mouth.

"You feel up to things?"

"What a truly heinous affront of my person," Doc murmurs as Wyatt kisses him again. "I am an ill man, not a dead one."

Not yet, Wyatt thinks, but he says nothing. He tries not to think about Doc drinking more and sleeping less, about Doc's stack of pillows having gotten higher over the months.

"You have the loudest internal monologue of any man I have ever known," Doc tells him, wrapping his fingers in Wyatt's hair. "We all die, Wyatt. There is no way to avoid it."

Wyatt bites Doc on the center of his chest. "You don't have to be rushing towards it with such abandon."

"Whatever is the point of life if not to enjoy it?"

"You're a stubborn bastard."

"How unkind." Doc pushes at Wyatt's head, and he drops down further, pressing his mouth against the front of Doc's trousers. "If you are finished with your lecture of my habits, perhaps you can assist me in one of the ones you enjoy."

Wyatt chuckles as he slides off Doc's trousers. "I suppose I could," he says in a passing imitation of Doc's own drawl. Doc just shakes his head as Wyatt lowers his mouth.

*

The coughing fit comes after, harsh and long. Wyatt wants to pull Doc in close, but he knows Doc will kick him away and use what little breath he can get out to curse Wyatt to the best of his abilities. He lies next to him and watches him struggle to breathe. When the coughing starts to abate, Wyatt gets up from the bed and gets Doc a glass of water.

"How lovely," Doc says as he takes the water in one hand and lightly grasps Wyatt's cock in the other.

"You need to rest," Wyatt tells him, trying to pull away, but Doc grasps him tighter, and he stops.

"I shall rest when I'm dead," Doc replies.

Like hell, Wyatt thinks, but he says nothing as Doc leads him back into bed.

*

"What is her name?" Doc asks as Wyatt recovers, one arm thrown over his eyes and Doc's fingers tracing his ribs.

"Who?"

"The actress." There's no disdain in his tone, but it's close, Wyatt thinks.

"Josephine."

"Hmm." Doc's fingers stop trailing and rest in a splay on Wyatt's torso. "And what bad habits has she?"

"I've barely spoken to her in depth," Wyatt replies. "I haven't compiled a list just yet."

"You never quite got around to it with your current," Doc says."Perhaps you should consider actually completing the task this time around."

"I'm not leaving Mattie," Wyatt says, throwing his arm down on the bed so he can look at Doc. "Josephine is interesting, and I do care for her a bit, but she is not my wife."

"And Mattie still is?" Doc asks. There's a quirk to his mouth that isn't the start of a smile. "Beneath all that laudanum, is she still really in there?"

"Why are you being cruel?"

"You've enough soft heart for the both of us. One of us should be honest."

"How funny," Wyatt replies, "that it would be you."

"Hysterical," Doc says, his drawl lengthening the word into a long, honeyed sound.

"I love Mattie," Wyatt says. "And I have a responsibility to her."

"Which you've escaped yet again tonight," Doc points out.

"I've never promised to be a perfect man."

"I would be terminally bored if you were."

Wyatt looks at Doc, noting the curve of his mouth and the way the lamplight makes his skin glow. "I wish..." he says.

"Wishing is for children and fools," Doc replies.

"I don't expect them to come true," Wyatt says. "I know reality."

"Do you?" Doc asks.

Wyatt sits up, and Doc's hand slides onto the blanket. He reaches for his shirt and catches sight of the moon in the window set high on the wall. the moon is three-quarters full, and Wyatt leans over and blows out the lamp.

They sit in darkness until Wyatt stands to find his trousers. "Take Josephine," Doc says in a whisper that carries. "After."

"After," Wyatt says, letting the word hang.

"Your responsibility to Mattie is foolish. She has made her own mistakes."

"You'd certainly know," Wyatt replies.

"Now who's being cruel?"

Wyatt turns to apologize, but he just stares at Doc in the monlight. He looks see-through in the white-blue light, and Wyatt wonders if it is how Doc will look if he decides to haunt him. After.

"I won't leave her," he says. Or you, he only thinks.

"You're a fool to think you'll save her," Doc tells him.

"I'm no fool," Wyatt replies as he sits on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots.

"All lawmen are fools," Doc says, his drawl goading.

"And what about the men who follow them?" Wyatt questions, eyebrows up in a challenge.

"Go to Joesephine," Doc says, rather than take the bait. "After."

Wyatt looks at him for a long moment before he leans down to kiss him. Doc opens his mouth to meet him. "I don't care about after," Wyatt says when he pulls away.

"You should."

Wyatt doesn't reply, just wraps his gunbelt and gives Doc one last, long look as he leaves the room.


End file.
